


Purpose

by Onus_Probandi



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Don't Examine This Too Closely, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Universe Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 09:59:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13924761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onus_Probandi/pseuds/Onus_Probandi
Summary: No matter the pain, he would choose this again and again (AU)Alternative summary: I'm sad and gay and WMTSB2 made me sadder and gayer.





	Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> This took up way too much of my spring break and is the longest thing I've ever written, fucking slay me. I wrote this mostly in the ungodly hours of night so I mean, it's going to be hot garbage. Thanks for giving me a shot though haha.

AU where Sandalphone still gets Lucifer's powers, but Lucifer doesn't die because that was some bullshit I couldn't accept. I mean, doesn't cygames know that the Supreme Primarch also inherits being a grade A bottom??? The fools. Anyways, watch me ramble and pretend like I know shit about the lore or characters of this game while being horny and having not written in like seven months.

* * *

 

_Purpose_

He is not as brash as he was before. In eons past, he didn't have such restraints chained to his wings, flying free but always feeling the pull back to whatever duty he flitted around completing. He couldn't exactly abandon his duty to watch over the skies, not that he had any desire to when his core and very being yearned to remain in heaven’s favor. He would put up with the damned Astrals and plaster false placidity onto his face for them if it meant he could remain here, where he was but a short run into Lucifer's embrace. He had none of his predecessor's grace or calm, though his own blazing temper had, ironically, been tempered by time, and perhaps whatever spell they had cast on him to make him docile, but not enough to make him suspicious.

Treading the ground with the other angels, or worse, the Astrals, was walking barefoot on broken glass, shards digging into the soles of his feet. Every word, if he was ever addressed, was as close to monosyllabic as one could approach without drawing patience thin, intentions hidden in his eyes, which he kept cast to the ceiling or ground. He would let them talk, then go and do whatever he pleased, again, within reason and reach of those invisible chains. All to stay close to Lucifer.

He was bitterly lucky that his new position as Supreme Primarch gave him the final say in some matters, because without the acquisition of Lucifer's strength, then he never would have been able to keep him from being cast out. Imagine, such a world where the weak were cast out even if they were once strong. Even if they served blindly and faithfully, clinging to every word the Astrals breathed as if it were heavenly scripture. Even if they turned against the only one who loved him in such a way that it made emotions boil and spill over, hands shaking as he quelled a rebellion led by that same lover. Even if…even if, even if.

Lucifer no longer had his wings. He no longer held the mantle of utmost purpose. Therefore, he was useless. Yet another failed experiment. A spare that had already been ripped of both his wings and self awareness.

And yet, Lucifer lived on. The Lucifer only Sandalphon knew as beautiful not because of the just Primarch he was, but for small, insignificant things that only one small and insignificant could notice in a flawless being.

In the eyes of the angels, he was now that flawless being.

But in the eyes of Lucifer, he was still Sandalphon.

He had very few comforts and they all were in Lucifer.

The former angel waits for him in his own room, the door left unlocked and slightly ajar per usual, gazing out of the window into the abyssal blue sky, a small teacup filled with a familiar smelling dark liquid perched between his hands. It most likely tastes like sewer water. It's still warm, so perhaps he had just made it moments before Sandalphon arrived, becoming well versed in the passage of time and schedule in these last few years. Time had previously meant nothing to him, but as he no longer heard the voices of the Skydwellers, he found the silence rather disturbing. He clung to previously discarded concepts now, but nothing quite filled the void of purposelessness.

Sandalphon knew that sometimes having a purpose was even worse than blissful ignorance. Lucifer had sacrificed his own comfort, ever the martyr.

He turns his head slightly at the sound of feet on stone, a soft smile playing at his lips.

When had he become freer in his expressions? Had tearing his own wings from his back been cathartic, freeing him from that frozen face and steel heart.

Sandalphon gave a meek wave, feeling his own emotions flare up at the sight of that smile. Lucifer was still his sun, and he still revolved around the white haired former angel as if caught in his gravity.

“Hello, Sandalphon,” his voice was meldolic as he set down the porcelain cup of coffee, eyes following his every movement. He waited a moment before asking, “are you tired?”

Was he? He honestly couldn't tell anymore. Sensations had blended together into one constant drone of impulse before he learned to tune out some of them to keep his sanity. How had Lucifer done this for so long exactly? Sandalphon had been lord of the skies for thirteen years and already he wanted to thrust this mantle on someone's else and be done with it.

But he could never do that to Lucifer.

“Yes,” Sandalphon simply replies, lying back onto Lucifer's bed, relishing as the soft cushions supported his spine. The truth is that he is exhausted, and he doesn't know how Lucifer did it for so many years.

The room goes silent, sans the soft wind blowing through the open window. He hears the sound of wood scraping and then the heels of Lucifer's boots clicking against the stone floor. They grow quiet, the door shutting before he walks back. Sandalphon doesn't open his eyes when he feels the bed depress under the weight of the white haired male, but he knows that Lucifer is watching his expressions, waiting.

Finally, a moment of brooding passes and Sandalphon finally opens his eyes again. His prediction was correct, Lucifer leans over him, gazing at his face with a gentle sort of love and beauty that makes his chest hurt.

“You…” Lucifer sighs, reaching out to touch Sandalphon’s arm. “You don't have to continue to tire yourself for me.”

“I'll be fine,” Sandalphon gives a thin smile. It's a lie, and a poorly made one at that and a pout reaches Lucifer's eyes, however he still runs his fingers down Sandalphon's hand, linking loosely with his fingers.

He leans down, hair falling into his eyes as he pressed his lips to the Supreme Primarch's, tasting the bittersweet remnants of coffee glazed on his lips. He liked it spiked with cream and sugar, until it swirled into a slightly dirty white rather than dark brown. Sandalphon gives a soft moan, pressing his free hand against Lucifer's cheek. The older fallen angel teases him, leading the Primarch back into a sitting position.

He pulls back, light blue eyes darkening with heady lust. Ah...so that's what he wanted. Well, it's not like he could say no to his Lucifer, and perhaps it would work out some of the kinks in his back.

Lucifer drags his fingers down Sandalphon's cheekbone until he loops around his chin and jolts his head upwards with three thin fingers. “I...ha, I want you to look at me,” the silver haired male muttered, his gaze level with the Primarch. He knows exactly what he's talking about, Sandalphon has a reflexive tendency to turn his head away from his lover's face, as one turns away from the sun to prevent blindness. Even without his wings and position, Lucifer is still the embodiment of light and purity, more the originator of those concepts than the bearer of them. He still carries the aura of perfection, even with the six raw wounds marring his otherwise smooth back. Wounds that would never heal. Constant reminders of his sacrifice.

_“Take my wings…” he had sobbed, so uncharacteristic, yet still so beautiful, as blood seeped into his arms. “Please, Sandalphon. Please live.”_

Sandalphon nodded, still restricted by Lucifer's hand on his chin. “...alright…”

He gives that smile that threatens to still the Primarch's heart right then and there.

Fingers slid from underneath his face in one elegant movement, stealing a quick kiss with the momentum. Lucifer gave a devilish smile, the smirk doing nothing to break his beautiful, angelic facade.

Sandalphon doesn't recall exactly which of them initiated the kiss that's all fire and passion and desire, but he knows that he needs it to breathe, teeth grazing against each other's lips in the heated fevor this hedonistic stimulation provided. Lucifer shifted closer, wrapping his arms around the torso of the Primarch to drag him deeper into the kiss. Sandalphon obliged, opening his lips and allowing Lucifer's tongue to explore the inside of his mouth. His own muscle rolled with the fleshy tide, easily overpowered by Lucifer's desire and he gave a droning moan in response. Lucifer's skilled hands undid the intricate gold knots holding Sandalphon's armor in place against his clothing, fingers looping over each patch of exposed skin with a careful touch.

Sandalphon needed it much faster than Lucifer does, yet another gaping difference between their performances as Supreme Primarch. Lucifer would watch and wait, unperturbed and favoring delayed gratification. Sandalphon would have shoved problems into their conclusion a few hundred years before their natural course ran out if he was left to his own devices.

Maybe this explained why Lucifer took such pleasure in making him beg for release, Sandalphon’s hands tied with gold ribbon and tears of tightly bound pleasure threatening to spill over.

When his breastplate came free, Lucifer's cool hand slipped underneath his shirt, pricking gooseflesh into life on his chest. Sandalphon's shirt traveled upwards slowly as Lucifer's lips kept his busy, distracting him from the creep of Lucifer's hand until his fingers wrapped around a nipple and tugged lightly. He tore away with a soft hiss that trailed off to a rough moan, head falling back as Lucifer's other hand massaged the other neglected nipple.

“A...ah...ah…” Sandalphon felt his skin heat under Lucifer's touch and intense gaze, the urge to turn his head strong before he remembered what Lucifer wanted. His fingers dug into the bedding, twisting the sheets when his predecessor's lips descended to take one nipple into his mouth. “Lucifer…” he bit on his bottom lip, trying not to whine and throw himself onto the mattress, legs spread and utterly pathetic. He wanted to pretend, at least slightly, that he was somewhat respectable in front of Lucifer.

The fallen angel caressed his chest with a gentle touch, movement asynchronous to keep the Primarch aching for more. Already, he could feel a tightness in his pants, meaning that he wouldn't be able to take as long as he wanted with Sandalphon, but it would be long enough to make him beg for it.

He kept his mouth on the brunette's chest, teeth grazing against the sensitive skin as his hand descended to Sandalphon's pants. The second his heated body felt the shift, he bucked his hips against the cooler hand, seeking out Lucifer's touch.

He undid the clasps on his Primarch's pants, pulling them as far as blind grasping could manage. “Sandalphon,” he muttered, lips trailing up to his neck. Red eyes, which had shut, fluttered open at Lucifer's voice. “...how lovely…” he chuckled from somewhere deep in his lust.

Sandalphon shivered as Lucifer's hand curled around his stiffening cock, giving it a quick exploration with his palm before settling on the head, already sticky with hints of arousal. Ah, so he had been thinking of him during the meeting, had he? While he couldn't condone such behavior on part of his Primarch, he had to admit that it gave him a jolt of private satisfaction.

He sucked on the creamy flesh of Sandalphon's neck, relishing in the sensation of skin against his tongue until he was sure he had left a mark on him.Lucifer felt the jolt of Sandalphon's body as he sought out more and more contact.

“Lucifer…” Sandalphon whined softly, rubbing his legs together. “Why are you still…”

“Hm?” He ran his eyes over the clothing on his frame that suddenly seems oppressive in nature. It's far too hot, he realizes, so close to Sandalphon's body. Once, in a rambling state, Sandalphon had told him that looking at him was akin to staring at the sun, yet not as painful. Intoxicating in its forbidden nature, and beautiful in it's soft warmth. He had gone on and on about it, and comprehension had escaped Lucifer until he stripped away his power.

Sandalphon hadn't changed physically, yet Lucifer felt awe seep into his bones each time he saw the dark haired Primarch. The loose waves of his hair took on a more elegant arrangements, falling in thick, perfectly styled chocolate locks. Red eyes blazed with barely contained power hidden right behind them, their shape smoothed at the edges, his skin flawless and glowing. The aura of perfection almost made it hard for him to look at the primarch for too long and now he knew what Sandalphon had rambled about all those years ago.

Sandalphon was beautiful in the most ungodly of ways, the beauty that mortal men waged wars to obtain, held in one primordial face.

How fortunate was he, to have such a god among gods in his bed?

Lucifer pulled his shirt over his head, taking the palm of one glove in between his teeth and pulling the fabric off his arm before repeating the process with his other. The clasp of his pants came undone as well, leaving him in the same state of undress as his god. He leaned over, taking another kiss from Sandalphon's lips before sitting back on his legs with a set of quiet pants.

“Sandalphon…” this was a query, asking for permission rather than attention. Red eyes followed his every movement, waiting and wanting. “Are you ready?”

He's never really ready, but he appreciates the sentiment. No one ever asked his permission.

“Yes,” he bites his bottom lip and tastes the sheen of sweat clinging to his skin. He reaches between them and loops his hands around his pants and underwear, taking them down in one smooth motion. The air hits his stiff cock, and redness spreads to his cheeks in embarrassment. Yet, he doesn't want to stop, and honestly he hopes that Lucifer doesn't either.

Lucifer's eyes roamed the Primarch's bare body with slightly narrowed eyes, attempting to blur the aura of glamour and beauty and see Sandalphon for who he was, not how magic made him seem.

He shuts his eyes against the onslaught, the head of his cock weeping with desire.

He's warm in Sandalphon's light, safe.

(More than sightly horny.)

Lucifer doffs the remainder of his clothing and looms over the Supreme Primarch with hunger in his eyes. Despite all his complaining, he wants Sandalphon to look at him and only him when they commit such a heinous sacrilege.

Sandalphon licked his fingers, coating them with a thin layer of saliva, reaching down to lubricate his entrance with a roll of his hips and firmly placed hand. He moves out of the way as Lucifer comes to meet him, hips touching.

Lucifer was one of the few people who ever looked him in his eyes, blue eyes heavy with a burden he had forced on his lover, determined to carry it with him.

Yet, he had no purpose, and he was the outcast of Estalucia for it.

He shuts his eyes as heat envelopes his cock from the head down, air forced from his lungs. Sandalphon groans, back arching off of the bed, chest heaving.

“Ah...ah, Lucifer…” he grunts, eyes turning to gaze at the fallen angel, teeth digging into his lip. Lucifer watches back, insistent and waiting for him to be okay with more. Sandalphon nods once, gripping the sheets in his hands and wrapping his legs around Lucifer's waist.

Pale skin meets slightly tanned in an utterly guttural display of carnal pleasure, Lucifer's thrusts hesitant at first, gauging Sandalphon's tolerance of the sudden intrusion.

“Ah! Lucifer, don't...don't stop…!”

He won't, he leans down to lock their lips and fingers in a cacophony of limbs, rocking hips and heavy moans of pleasure. Its threatening to swallow the Supreme Primarch alive, belly alight as if he had swallowed light and fire, and he tears away to toss his head back, a loud droning moan escaping him.

Lucifer can't help himself either, moaning with each thrust in and out of Sandalphon's more than welcoming body. His mind clouds over, unable to form words or find thoughts through the rosy haze. “Sa...Sandalphon!” He loves him. He wants to say it but it's just a garbled mess of words and saliva in his mouth. He doesn't doubt that Sandalphon already knows, that the wings on his back are continued proof of Lucifer's devotion to him

He will love no other the way he has loved him.

Lucifer comes with a sudden cry of Sandalphon's name, clear and ringing throughout their bedroom, the Primarch following soon after. Lucifer twitches once, twice, spasming as his seed spills into the other male and relishing in the sight of Sandalphon's neglected member dripping his own load of sperm onto his pelvis and chest.

He knows he'll be sticky if he does this, but he rests against Sandalphon's chest, ear pressed to the rhythm of light pulsing in his veins.

The air between them cools, satisfied with their lustful offering for now.

It's a moment before Sandalphon speaks, “Lucifer. I...um...I love you.”

He knows it.

It still makes him tremble in adoration.

Lucifer gives him a gentle smile.

“I love you as well, Sandalphon.”

* * *

 

He prefers his coffee with cream and sugar, and Lucifer prepared it the way he likes, his cup warm and waiting to soothe his seething temperament. He doesn't know exactly why Sandalphon is upset, but from what he's gleaned, it would seem he's growing frustrated of being ignored.

“They want to know if they can trust you,” Lucifer says, taking a sip of his own coffee. “You need to be patient.”

Sandalphon frowns. “I'm not like you, Lucifer. I don't have endless patience.”

The white haired male reached a hand out to squeeze the Primarch's curled fist.

“I know you aren't, Sandalphon. That is why I adore you.”

He still doesn't know where his purpose lies–what does one do with the original when the spare is brought to light?–but he knows that he wants to fight by Sandalphon’s side until he is forced to stand aside.

Perhaps that is his purpose now.


End file.
